Water Under the Bridge
by chasingafterstarlight
Summary: There's a certain sort of irony in his being stuck in the school with her during a zombie apocalypse. Jade/Beck.


_Water Under the Bridge_

.

Fate, Beck thinks, has a real sense of humor.

For example, LA has a population of nearly four million, but of all the people in the entire city he could've ended up with, he's stuck here with his ex-girlfriend, of all people, and her eyes are looking everywhere except at his face.

 _Terrific_ , he thinks. _Just great_.

"Do you think we should go for supplies?"

No answer.

He rolls his eyes, breathes in deeply, and grabs her arm in a way that's not meant to be rough but ends up being so anyway. His eyes bear down onto hers. "You know, I was speaking to you."

"I heard." She focuses her eyes onto the ceiling.

"Yet you chose not to respond." Again, she doesn't answer. He breathes in deeply, trying to keep his unfailing cool. Of all people in the world to get the best of him, he doesn't want it to be her. "All right. Fine. Cool. I don't know what in the world I did to you to make you so _bitter_ , but for the love of God, I don't know if you've noticed, but working with me is your only chance of survival. So you might want to, I don't know, _acknowledge my existence_."

She glances up at him, meeting his eyes at last. "Fine. Hi." Her cool eyes hold the same sort of venom as her tone.

"I was hoping for a little more than a basic greeting." He sighs again, but lets go of her. "Anyway. Supplies. The school's pretty well stocked, but the stuff in vending machines can only last us so long and…" He shrugs. "I mean, it's almost a choice. Die by zombies, or die by starvation."

She shrugs, seemingly unconcerned. "Can't we just wait until we run out of food?"

"Then there won't _be_ any more food, genius. There's 4 million people in this town, all looking for a way to survive – "

"And at this point, probably at least two million are brain-dead and brain-hungry."

"Pessimist."

"Realist. But anyway – " She breaks off, glancing over at him. Her eyes linger on him in a way they haven't done in weeks, months, ever since they were dating, and she gives a derisive chuckle. "How do you expect to take the other scavengers if you do go for supplies? Come on. You're five ten, 150 pounds at most, and I'd wager most of it isn't muscle. You expect to compete against guys twice _Andre's_ size?"

"I don't – " he begins, but cuts off halfway after realizing that she does, in fact, have a point. "Okay, yeah, you've got a point. So you just wanna sit here and die, then?"

"Not what I'm saying." She points one (still perfectly painted) black fingernail in the direction of the vending machines. "We'll just eat what needs refrigeration now, and all the rest we'll ration out. We've got at least a couple of good months left."

"But –" he trails off, feeling it offensive to point out the obvious. If they stay here, hiding in the fortress of the school, that means they can't leave. And that means that for days, weeks, _months_ , he'll be stuck in here with her. And _only_ her.

"Unfortunately." She cuts her eyes in his direction. "Apologies in advance that you'll have to tolerate me for so long, Oliver."

Deny it as he may, he's kind of missed that snark.

.

Her nails scratch into the carefully painted walls. He wants to yell, but feels it's pointless. After all, this school is basically a prison until they're overrun with zombies, so it doesn't feel quite as sacred anymore.

"Day 6," she announces.

He nods. "So are we going to have an actual conversation yet? Or are you going to ignore me and sit in your corner and hate the world?"

She glares at him. "I'll let you know tomorrow." The same thing she's said for five days in a row. And for five days, he's let her.

But somehow, today, he decides not to. And instead of letting her retreat into her own little corner where she's permitted to hate the world, he follows her.

"Leave."

"You're not the boss of me," he says, feeling oddly like a petulant child. "Look, I'm sorry, okay?"

"I don't know what you're apologizing for," she says, with eyes so cold they'd make any other fool freeze in his tracks. "It's not like I have a heart."

"It wasn't like that," he tries to protest.

"Wasn't it," is her icy response.

He gives up.

.

On Day 10, he tries again.

"So… how's your brother?"

When she gives him the look of death, he realizes his mistake and quickly follows up with, "I mean, before the zombies… the monsters… before the apocalypse. Last time you saw him, I guess. How was he."

"He was fine," Jade replies curtly. "Though I can say nothing for how he's doing now."

Her words remind him of something he's been trying not to think about. His family, his friends… everyone he's lost contact with since the phone lines cut off and the power went out all over the country. They could all be dead, for all he knows. For days they've been avoiding the subject, and although he can't speak for Jade, he hasn't been thinking about his family because there's just no use, there's nothing he can do, there's no way to get in contact with them, and there's no way to find them. But now, for the first time, he finds himself picturing Cat as a perky redheaded zombie, his mom screaming in terror as she tries to drag herself away from a particularly vicious creature, his dad crying over the body of his mother….

"Sorry," he says, and retreats back to his section of the wall, gnawing sadly on a somewhat expired Twinkie.

She glances up at him, her eyes curiously filled with something like sympathy, and for a second he's sure she's going to say something. But then she glances back down. "You should be."

.

With Day 24 comes their first threat.

For 24 days, nearly a whole month, they've been safe within the school walls, somewhat secluded from the city and the whole army of zombies that entails. But somehow today their luck has run out. He's shaken awake during his sleeping shift. Groggily, he groans, "Jade, wha – "

"Shut up," she hisses, cramming her hand over his mouth (he's forgotten how soft her skin is).

"Sorry," he whispers, immediately grasping the intensity of the situation. A loud thud echoes behind him. "Oh my god."

"Glad I woke you now?" she replies sarcastically, but there's no time for banter. She yanks him up. "Go check the front door. Take any wood you can find from the debris pile. We've got to barricade ourselves."

He nods, and as he looks at her, the fear she's hiding, the way she manages to keep her composure, the way she somehow still cares about him despite how he's hurt her, he wants to say so much. Instead, he says, "Take care of yourself."

He dashes down the hall, picking up the nails and hammer Jade had remembered from their time in the janitor's closet and then haphazardly snatching pieces of wood from destroyed classroom doors and cabinets. With time he makes it down to the back door and is greeted with the sight of a rotted green hand poking through what used to be a window. Equal parts disgusted and afraid, he shoves a plank on top of it and immediately begins hammering. Some kind of green goo splatters all over the place. He has to choke back the bile that rises in his throat. _Stay strong._ _You're Beck Oliver. You're not afraid._

But he is. And it's not just the zombie he's scared of, either. He's also scared for his ex-girlfriend, alone at the other wing of the school, and he realizes that even if they haven't been speaking for twenty-four days it's kind of been a relief to have her with him, and he doesn't really want to split apart from her again.

So he finishes hammering, waits a few seconds for good measure to make sure the horde isn't going to break through anytime soon, and then darts back to their haven of safety, where for days they've been sitting in relative silence and surviving. The biggest sigh of relief escapes his mouth once he notices Jade sitting there.

"Never thought you'd be happy to see me again," she notes, and although it does sound sassy he's not sure it's meant to be.

Nervously, he says, "Would it be okay if we don't split up next time?" and he waits for the sassy remark, the angry object hurled his way, the " _you broke my heart you absolute son of a –",_ but none of it comes. Instead, she simply nods in acquiescence.

Unexpected, but it brings a smile to his face nonetheless.

.

As the days go on and the number of threats to their little hiding place multiply, he can't help but deny that at times he's almost more worried for her than for himself. They still don't speak during the day other than casual small talk or necessary survival talk, but he _knows_ her. Sometimes when they're just sitting around, he'll see a glint in her eye that he recognizes or a smile on her face that he remembers and he knows exactly what she's thinking, and somehow it's almost like a conversation. And during those times he remembers, and during those times he misses her, and with every memory his worry simply grows.

It doesn't matter if he's destroyed during this apocalypse. It's such a cliché, anyway. He's a pretty boy with no survival skills. He has no chance of really making it. But her, on the other hand – she's strong. She's survived worse. She has a chance. And that's what he wants to give her.

Of course, he tells her none of this. She'd be angry if she found out. She's never really wanted anyone to help her with anything, and especially not surviving. So he keeps his little strategy to himself, and sits in silence in his designated space, waiting.

Until one day, she finally breaks the silence. "Why did you break up with me, anyway?" Her usual venom is removed from the question. It hangs in the air between them for a few seconds, waiting, soaking in the silence that's surrounded them for thirty days, until he finally answers.

"It was too much," he says, and it's not enough.

"I don't know what you mean," she replies, equal parts angry and confused. "You literally got with me because I was too much, and then you break up with me because _it_ was too much. Do you see how that could be confusing?"

"I wasn't happy. You weren't happy. I didn't see a way that we could work through our relationship without me constantly bringing you down. I wasn't making you happy anymore. Nothing did. I was stupid, I know, but…" He lowers his head a little bit. "I'm not … I didn't deserve you, Jade. I wasn't worth it for you."

"That wasn't your choice to make."

Once again, he misreads her and doesn't anticipate the venom that shows up in her tone. Slowly, he raises his head. Her eyes are alight, green fire that blazes through his broken heart. "I didn't care if you were worth it or not, got it? No one really deserves anyone, anyway. You don't get to tell me if you're good enough for me or not. Only I get to make that decision. And you took that away from me." She barks out a laugh. "And now we're here, see, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, and I can't decide if I love or despise you more, so see how much good you've done?"

Shock sparks his long-emotionless body back to life. "Even after all of that, you still love me?"

She nods affirmatively, then shakes her head. "But it doesn't matter now. You've gone and messed it up. I don't trust you, and I don't have time to grow to trust you again, because you're going to leave me and you're going to die and hell, I'm going to die and – _none of it matters, don't you see?_ "

There's a twinge of desperation in her voice he's never heard before and he never really wants to hear again.

"I'm going back to my corner. Don't bother me or I'll kill you."

He doesn't.

.

One thing about schools is that they tend to have an excess of paper, so he decides since he also has an excess of time he might as well spend some of that time writing a note because he has a lot to explain, it seems, and since there's a high chance of their barricade breaking down any day he might as well explain himself in a note, just in case. So he writes.

 _Dear Jade –_

 _Hi Jade –_

 _Jade,_

 _I'm sorry. I wish I could apologize enough for hurting you. I should've never ended things and I regret it more than anything I've done. Like you said, I don't have the time to make up for it. I wish I did. If I had a Genie now, I'd wish for more time with you. I know that's the cheesiest thing in the world, but seriously, right now it's the truth._

 _At times, you were the worst person. You'd say things and I'd get angry and spew stuff right back and then I'd regret it right after. But it didn't matter, you see? I'd already hurt you. And I couldn't stop myself. So I guess I was the worst person too._

 _I wish things hadn't turned out this way. Because despite everything that's happened, I still love you most._

 _I don't know if that makes a difference or not. But if you're getting this when I'm dead, which is what will probably happen, then I just wanted you to know. That I love you. And that I wish I'd never hurt you. And that if we'd had more time maybe I could've made up for it._

 _Maybe in another life._

 _Beck._

It doesn't seem complete, but he folds it up anyway and sticks it in his back pocket. Maybe she'll find it one day. He hopes not soon, but then again he never knows. Anything could, and will, happen during a zombie apocalypse, and in this he doesn't consider himself lucky, or special, or anything of the sort.

In this, he's just another human being.

The only one who's special… is her.

.

She's keeping up her stony silence, but this time he attempts to break it.

"You look nice," he says.

"I haven't showered in over a month, and now you're trying to tell me I look nice," she remarks dryly, sending a skeptical glance his way.

"You always look nice to me," he answers brightly.

"Cute," is her snippy response, but there's half a smile on her face, and he thinks maybe this is progress.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've seen all month, you know that?"

She hurls a soda can at him.

.

There's something between them, now. He wouldn't call it friendship exactly, but it's not romance either. It's something where romance once was, and where friendship could be, but neither truly exists anymore. It's a partnership of sorts. And he's wishing for more, but he knows the reasons why not so he doesn't bother asking about it.

Some nights now when she's sleeping and he's keeping watch she'll accidentally end up curling up onto his lap, and sometimes when he's sure she won't notice he strokes her hair and presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispers, but he knows she can't hear it, and he knows even if she did she probably wouldn't care. Regardless, he'll spend the rest of his life trying to make it up to her.

During the day they sit and eat expired Cheetos and reminisce over what used to be. She reminds him of the story of their Ping Pong team – "undefeated champions", he adds with a laugh – and he shoots back with the time that Sikowitz made them all stay over at his house – "at any other school, he'd probably get arrested," she informs him matter-of-factly. They bicker over music and she calls him a preppy little punk and he calls her a hater and they laugh, and he thinks that even in such a bleak time it's nice to have someone to laugh with.

But then they'll go over to the windows to have a peek, and they'll peer out together through the planks, and sometimes they'll spot an eye or a limb and he'll jump and she'll shriek and grab his hand. But sometimes there's nothing, just the infinite blackness of night. And sometimes that's worse.

It feels like time in prison spent waiting for death. The only thing he can find to be grateful for is that he's spending the time with her, the one he least wanted to be stuck with.

Fate works in mysterious ways, he supposes.

.

"I found a magazine crammed in one of the desks," she says, sounding disgusted. "I thought you might want the Bieber poster to comfort you. Since you're both Canadian, or whatever."

"His lyrics will inspire me in these dark times," Beck quips, setting the poster up in front of him. "You know, where are you now that I need ya, repeated fifty times with some kind of messed up Dubstep."

She rolls her eyes, but as darkness settles in again she ends up sitting questionably close to him and looking up at him with those eyes of hers that always immediately end up getting him into things he doesn't want to do. "This is gonna sound weird and creepy, but – would you mind holding me? Sorry, I know it's dumb, and I know you dumped me, but just for tonight, because I'm scared and I don't know – "

"Jade," he interrupts, and for a second she looks oddly vulnerable in a way she's never seen before. "Shut up. Yeah. Of course. Just – come here."

For a second or two it's really awkward, but after that it comes naturally, and after that they end up dozing off. His hand strokes her hair. Minutes before sleep he finds himself thinking how beautiful she is, how he's missed her, how lucky he is –

And then suddenly they're awoken by the screeching sound of tearing metal.

"Run," she says frantically, jumping to her feet.

"Stay with me," he counters, grabbing her hand with one hand. In the other he clutches their only gun, their only method of protection. They slip through the hallways, trying to navigate through the darkness to find where their fortress had been broken.

It happens suddenly, though. Out of the darkness crawls one of _them_ , and it stretches toward him with its rotted skin. He shoots desperately, but to no avail – the bullets hit in entirely the wrong places. It suddenly becomes clear that there's no way for both of them to make it out, and if Jade escapes through the other door now with the gun – well, there might still be a chance for her. But now, as the zombie's hand clamps down around his wrist, he realizes this is it from him. With his free hand, he throws the gun and the letter he'd kept in his pocket at her. "Take this and go. _Now_."

"I can't leave you," she retorts angrily, her fists shaking. "Idiot. You're the worst. Why – no – "

"One of us needs to survive, stupid," he hisses back. "He's got me. There's a horde behind me. Don't be stupid. Run while you've got a chance. I'm begging you. Please."

"You needed to survive," she replies desperately, her eyes filled with fear and pain and everything he'd never wanted to see on her face. He wants to kiss it all off. He can't.

"We both knew that wasn't going to happen," he says as the teeth of the zombie close around his neck, making a disgusting noise as they rip through his flesh. "Go," he says, choking as the disease floods his body. "I love you."

He hears her scream as she dashes off, leaving his body there to transform, and then he sees nothing else, and he hopes his last efforts have not been wasted. If he died to save her, then to him, it is worth it. He thinks of that as white floods his vision.

He thinks of that until his brain rots, his skin dries up, and he can think no more.

He doesn't hear her come back for him. He doesn't hear her cries. He doesn't hear her response to the letter. Because he is no more.

All that exists is a zombie that cares nothing for this girl.

And maybe that's good, because he never sees his efforts go to waste.

.

 **A/N: Absolutely the worst thing I have ever written but I was in the mood for zombie AU and somehow this happened. It is VERY AU and kind of abstract and weird so I'm sorry for that but maybe someone will enjoy it? Idk**

 **Thanks for reading though and please review if you liked I guess?**

 **Sorry I haven't written in ages but I'll try my best! Decided to try to get into the swing of things first though**


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